Peripeteia
by lostatseanomore
Summary: When Rukia gave Ichigo her powers, Sode no Shirayuki enters Ichigo's inner world and meets Zangetsu, who has been alone and waiting for a long time. ZangetsuxSodenoShirayuki. IchigoxRukia.


**Neither _Bleach_ nor its characters belong to me.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

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The sky was grey.

Cold droplets of water perpetually soaked his hair and coat. He was accustomed to it.

His world was empty and quiet. It had been for a long time.

It was not even right on its axis.

His master did not pay enough attention to feel his presence, at least he had not yet. The boy was lost, in more ways than one, and he knew it would be a few more years, at least, before he could be released from this steel prison, before he could leave forever the torrential rain.

Before he could see the green of a forest.

He sighed, but there was no one to hear him.

The rain and wind picked up and the icy bullets pelted his face.

_He must be having a bad day_, he thought to himself.

Just then, like a strike of lightening, a pain shot through his chest, a pain unlike any he or his master had ever experienced. Simultaneously, there was a crack in his sky.

The world spun, and the rain froze to snow.

Despite the pain and the cold and the snow, he did not move, did not lose his footing. He was not that weak. An odd sensation of strength filled his being, however, and, for the first time in a long time, he felt...warm.

There was no sun in his world. Sure, there was a sky which was sometimes blue, but, more often than not, it was filled with looming grey clouds. But this influx of warmth, despite the snow that still swirled about mercilessly, radiated steadily from the sky.

Then, he felt his master awaken. Not in the physical sense; he felt him awaken to him, to his powers.

The sky grew white.

It was time, he realized. His master needed him.

"It's my fault," confessed a soft, feminine voice. It was a voice of an angel, a voice unlike any he had ever heard before, save one perhaps.

Zangetsu turned toward the voice and was graced in his vision: a woman, with the palest skin and faded lavender eyes and hair akin to the snowflakes that swirled about her in heavenly clusters. She half hid her face behind a thin paper fan, but her eyes, peaking over it, held a softness and a grace that was indescribable. Her white kimono was long and white and just further exuded her elegance.

"I am Zangetsu," he offered formally, bowing.

She nodded, poised. "Sode no Shirayuki. Shira, if you will."

"What has happened?" he questioned, seemingly emotionless.

She neared him and responded, fan still hiding her face, "I am the reason it's so cold. He was protecting her."

"It's no worse than the rain," he stated dryly.

She peered at him, observing him with keen eyes. Then, as if she'd made a decision, she snapped the fan shut gracefully, revealing her full, pink lips and perfect pearly teeth, and stepped even closer to him, craning her neck to look up at him.

"She was right to chose him," she said sagely.

"'Chose him?'" he questioned, though knowing full well what she was talking about. He could feel what her presence had done--was doing--to his world, as well as what her mistress was doing to his master.

She placed a small, white hand over the wound on his chest, where she had pierced his master. "To lend me to. She chose wisely. He is strong..." her eyes lifted slowly to capture his, "as are you." She fingered the blood now staining her fingertips but did not appear daunted or repulsed.

He took her small hand in his large, rough one and wiped the blood away with the sleeve of his coat.

She smiled sweetly.

"So, what happens now?" he asked, still cradling her hand.

"I'm not sure," she said, and she reached for his other hand. "I have a feeling the road ahead has just become...uneven. For both of us. All of us."

He could sense the inner turmoil of his master, his angst and self-deprecation, how it rattled the foundation of his world. But, oddly enough, there was a decided strength permeating his world, as well.

He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb, then lifted it to his lips. "Well," he said, his voice gruff and coarse compared to her musical one, "are you sure about this?"

She stepped even closer. "I am."

Her eyes slid shut as one hand wrapped around her waist and the other stroked her pale cheek. "They were meant for each other," he asked--but it was more of a statement than a question--his mouth hovering mere centimeters above hers, his hot breath caressing her cold skin.

"Yes," she breathed, eyes still closed. "Destiny has played a large role in their lives; some things transcend all bounds."

"And us?"

"We, too, are not strong enough to break these ties that bind, but I find myself not wanting to."

He smiled. "My master will not yield as easily."

"Neither will my mistress. She is...fairly headstrong."

"So, what now?" he repeated, relishing their proximity. She fit perfectly in his embrace.

"Well, you could quit teasing me, to start."

He smiled. "Tease you? Never, love. Can you not see what you've done?"

She opened her eyes and waited for him to continue.

He looked up. "It's not raining anymore." Slowly, he leaned down and captured her soft lips with his. The souls fused, becoming one entity. The kiss was slow but deliberate; they weren't rushed or worried or anxious. They had forever.

Now that they had been united, no one could tear them apart.

Not even their stubborn counterparts.

He broke the kiss, but traced a trail of kisses over her cheek, eyelids, and forehead. She didn't even feel the roughness of his beard. She rested against his chest and he held her close to his heart.

It was a notable contrast: the dusky, rough, aged man and the white, innocent, young woman. Dark and light. Night and day.

And yet...they completed each other.

"How long will you be here?" he asked, really just wanting to hear her voice.

"I'm not sure. Awhile, I guess. She is weak, and he still believes he needs her powers--my powers--to protect those he loves."

"That's fine with me," he said with a slight smile. The wind around them picked up and the cold was slowly creeping back. He sighed. "He needs me now."

"I know," she said, but her fingers curled into the dark material of his coat.

He kissed her one more time.

"Come back to me," she commanded softly.

"Always," he promised. And he disappeared.

She was left alone in his cold grey world, full of steel and glass, both similar and different from her own: both were cold, both were stark, and both were lonely. One of the only differences being that, in her world, the rain was replaced with snow, and she had mountains instead of skyscrapers. But, in essence, they were the same.

But now that they were together, "alone" would never be an issue for either one of them. Even her mistress had become bound to his master, one soul, one heart, with a love that would surpass all time and trials. And as the wind and rain swirled about her in perfect unison, she felt the warmth she had been searching for for a lifetime appear and kindle passionately. She knew nothing would ever be the same.

The sun was shining. She was whole.


End file.
